


Passion Never Dies

by itspixiesthings



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Allerdale Hall, BDSM, Bondage, Cock Sucking, D/s, Dominant Thomas Sharpe, Erotica, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted House, Haunting, Incest, Orgasm Control, Paranormal, Possessed Sex, Possession, Punishment, Romance, Spanking, Supernatural Elements, Victorian Attitudes, angry fuck, dub-con, lovemaking, revenge fucking, spoiler warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itspixiesthings/pseuds/itspixiesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten years after the events of Crimson Peak, and the place has gained a reputation for being haunted. Intrigued by these stories and suspicions, Jessica and her fiance Tom make their way to Allerdale Hall to find out if there is any truth to the stories... and to help the tormented souls to rest if there is.</p><p> What will they find on the sight of Crimson Peak, and will they live to tell the tale?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING!  
> As this takes place after the movie, this contains SPOILERS as to how the movie ends!
> 
> Soooo this is really just an experiment, and Im not really sure how well its going to come out, but here's to hoping! I really wanted to do something a little spooky in honor of Crimson Peak. Thank you for reading!

_Dear Mrs. Edith McMichael._

_You may be surprised at receiving this letter. I regret that the subject of my correspondence may be upsetting, but I hope that may not be the case._

_Let me first preface by saying that I thoroughly enjoyed your novel, The Exorcism of Summer's Past. I found it to be a gripping and engaging read, and wish to congratulate you on your accurate portrayal of human sorrow and nostalgia. It was breathtaking and I hope that you continue in your career as a author._

_The reason for my inquiry is the same as what lead me to the discovery of your lovely novel. Please allow me to explain. My name is Jessica, and I am known as a medium and a clairvoyant. Rather unsubstantial titles, without any real meaning aside from what my clients designate, but that is besides the point. I have been investigating, as per requests from said clients, some disturbances and local trepidation surrounding the Manor at Allerdale Hall._

_Local stories say the place has been a source of numerous disturbances and hauntings for the past ten years, and few are willing to make the journey to the place for fear of its supposed unearthly inhabitants. In the course of my investigations, I have found that the last known master of the Manor was the late Thomas Sharpe, who after an unknown tragedy is succeeded only by his then wife. Which lead me in my search to you, Mrs. McMichael, as well as to the purchase of your wonderfully well written novel._

_Please do not be alarmed. I am writing with the intent to find out some information, if you would be kind enough to indulge my request. I understand that the subject may not be pleasant to revisit after ten years, and if you choose not to reply, I will understand. I hope however that you will be amicable to my inquiry. I seek only information about the sight of Crimson Peak and Allerdale Hall, and if you could shed some light to my investigation concerning what happened there._

_I thank you for your consideration, and anticipate your response,_   
_Jessica Chastain_

 

 

  
_Dear Mrs. Chastain._

_I thank you for your kind words concerning my novel, and am glad that you found it to be of even a modicum of worth. I find myself at a loss for how to answer your query, however, and I think you will not like my answer._

_Please, for your own sake, do not go near Crimson Peak. Let that place rest in peace._

_I am afraid I will not speak more on the subject except to issue you this warning. I beg of you, do not continue this investigation. That place is unhallowed ground, and it is better the let it lie._

_I regret that I cannot be of more assistance, and I hope that you will heed my warning._

_Your's Truly,_   
_Edith McMichael_


	2. Chapter 2

As the carriage drew to a stop, the sound of the drivers voice rang out clear and concise, though not without a telltale tremble to his words, discernible only if one were paying close enough attention.   
"This is a far as I go Sir, Miss."

She nodded to the man across from her and gathered her luggage, opening the door with a resigned sort of impatience. As she stepped out of the carriage, the man's hand darted out from behind her to hold hers, helping her to keep her balance as she went.  
"If you would wait for me to exit first, _as is the custom_ , I could help far better." His words sounded slightly irritable, though they were followed with the kind of sigh a man gives when he has lost an argument far too many times already for his liking.

She rolled her eyes and ignored the comment, opening her purse to find change to pay the driver. As she looked out she peered across the wide open field that seemed to go on forever, with no end in sight.  
_"No farther?_ I cannot even see the _house_ from here." She protested in indignation. The driver merely shrugged his shoulders and put out his hand for payment, while her companion went around to gather their bags. "I'm sorry Miss, but that place is not one I would willingly go any nearer. If you're close enough to see the house, you're _too close_ I say."

She sighed, the breath hot on her lips as she reluctantly pressed the expected coins into his hand, but she refrained from giving him extra as a tip.   
"Very well, it will have to do. Meet us here again in two days, same time." The driver inclined his head towards her, doffing his cap with all politeness, but there was a chill to his manors. Soon he had driven off, leaving her and her escort stranded with the bags.

She looked around at the satchels and said with a sigh, "Well, I shall have to change my shoes if I am to be walking that far." As she began to rummage through the luggage, her male companion gave a slight chuckle. "Shall I carry you, m'lady?"  
She grinned and looked over at him playfully.   
  
"Oh, would you _please?"_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He had not wanted her to go. After she had received word from Mrs. McMichael, formerly Mrs. Sharpe, she had felt a real amount of dread and foreboding about the place. The only person with any formal ties to the manor would not even discuss it, except to give a warning. _Stay away._  
When she had shown him the letter, he had become increasingly agitated on the subject.

"Why must you go?" he had demanded, pacing about the room in a passion as he tried to reason with her. She had only forced a laugh, a tight kind of melody that was as insincere as it sounded. "Oh Tom, you _know_ why: _It's my job._ I investigate these sorts of things."

He had gazed at her fiercely then, placing his hands upon his shoulders. "Jessica, you _choose_ which jobs you take. _Ignore_ this one. Do another, god knows you have enough clients."  
She had shaken her head and scoffed in his face, turning quickly so he would not see the doubt in her eyes. "You do not even _believe_ in the supernatural, _or_ in my work."  
He was not swayed by her sudden change of subject, his eyes following her where she went.  
"I may not believe the same way you do, but I do know there are many things that science has yet to find an answer for. And this place... I may not believe it to be haunted but it is clear that there is _something_ dangerous about it, and I beg of you to reconsider going!"

They had bickered for some time after that. When it became apparent to him that his fiance would not be swayed, stubborn streak that she had, he had insisted that he would accompany her. And in that, she found him to be every bit as stubborn as herself. Truth be told, she was glad of his company; the foreboding atmosphere around the subject of Crimson Peak was not one that she took lightly.

As they strode up to those abandoned gates now, feet tired and aching from their hours walk, she marveled at the scope of the place. Though the house was clearly in dire straights, even at a distance that was obvious, it was almost certainly once a magnificent piece of work. The architecture was beautiful, if a little bleak, and it made her shiver with a sense of... what was it? Dread? Desire? She was not sure which.

"Well..." She began, her face flushed from the exercise of the walk, her breath heavy, _"..shall we?"_   
They passed the gates and on to the house itself, and as they opened the doors, she could feel the atmosphere around them. It was thick with presence, and it instantly made her skin crawl. She felt immediately that they were being watched.

Tom also observed the house around them, and though he would not say so out loud, was unnerved by the lingering aura of personage that filled the room. His eyes focused on the leaves and the debris that littered the interior of the house, before he looked up to see that the roof, if you could call it that, was filled with holes. As his eyes darted around he also took note of the way the floorboards were half sunken into the ground, red clay seeping up between the cracks. Of course, it was only clay, he knew that. But he could not deny how much it eerily reminded him of blood, and ever horror story he had ever heard as a child seemed to be rearing its ugly head.

With a lump of anxiety forming in his throat, he looked to the woman at his side. Jessica was busying herself inspecting the walls, red staining her fingers as she idly moved about the foyer.  
" _Ahem.._. Shouldn't you... get on with the exorcism or... _whatever_ it is you do? Like, perhaps _now?_ " This caught her attention and she quirked a brow at her skeptic of a fiance, who in this moment was sounding decidedly _un-_ skeptical.

"No... You have to let the spirits get used to your presence first before you can reach out to them. Find out why they are here. Help them to pass... It is a very intimate ritual, and we will not be accepted by them before we have spent the night. I also cannot possibly know what they want or how best to dispel them without their trust."   
He swallowed, attempting to banish the feeling of lingering dread that clumped in his throat, but was unsuccessful. "Besides..." she continued, her voice sounding faraway as she made her way through the hallway, "Aren't you tired? It's nearly nightfall. We should choose some rooms to sleep in for the night. We can eat and then retire early."

He nodded mutely, though everything in him screamed _no... no, no! Sleep here? I would rather walk all night back to town!_ He followed her, quite obediently, as she found the dinning room, and plopped some bags down beside the now very dusty table. The house stunk of mildew and clay, and he had no appetite at this moment. His mouth had gone dry. Still, he knew he had no choice in the matter. They were here for the duration. Best to follow her lead.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The place was haunted. She could tell that the moment she set foot past the threshold. Instantly there was a connection, as she passed from room to room, trying to gauge the presence that lingered in this place. Presence? Or where there more than one? That she was not certain of. As she settled into the room she had carefully chosen - It was a room that she felt had a strong tie to the most dominant presence within the enormous beast of a house - she got out a pen and notebook with which to document her arrival.

_Arrived at the sight of Allerdale Hall at Crimson Peak._   
_Tom has been kind enough to accompany me on this trip. I daresay I am glad, though it was really quite unnecessary. The house is large, and the rooms are thick with dust and time. The spirit that resides within these walls has seeped into its very foundations. I will try to make contact with it tomorrow. For now I will let it grow used to my, and my fiance's presence._   
_Tom is sleeping in the room across the hall. Such a gentleman he is! Regardless there is nobody here to bat an eye at our lack of chaperon, he still insists on observing proper decorum._

 

* * *

 

 

The night passed without anything of note, though they both were certain they had dreamed the sound of beautiful piano playing. Breakfast was a meager affair, nothing but the tea and breads they had brought with them in their luggage. Jessica seemed well rested and full of exuberant energy, ready to tackle the mystery that had been lain before her. Tom on the other hand looked as though he had not slept in days, bags under his eyes betraying the lack of rest and the fitful tossing and turning he had undergone throughout the night.

"Tom, _darling_ , I hope you weren't up all night. I wont take you along with me on any more haunted house expeditions if you can't even get a good nights rest!" She teased him playfully, nudging him with her elbow. He forced a thin smile as he regarded her, glad at least that she seemed in good spirits.

"I'm new at it, remember." With a sigh he looked around the dining room, a cool breeze blowing in from god knew where. "You said you were going to start the... _procedures_ today?" He did not wish to stay another night, though he knew that they would have to. If all went according to her schedule however, the presence he felt here would be gone before they retired again. He _hoped_ , rather than _believed_ , that that would be the case.

"Yes." The chair beneath her squeaked against the floor as she stood up, setting aside the cup of now lukewarm tea. "First, we investigate the house. We'll split up, and see what we can find in each of the rooms. Got it?"

"Split up? Oh, that sounds... _wonderful."_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep! I wanted to get this done and up on Halloween, but it didn't happen like that, so sorry!  
> This was a fun little writing experiment (depicting two consciousnesses in the same body), so I hope you enjoyed it! Will probably wrap it up with an epilogue, but no promises when :P

As she stepped into the room, she could immediately feel a presence.  
It was cloying, an almost overwhelming kind of deathly sweet that crawled across her skin and produced a kind of scent that she could only associate with the grave. It felt like the air in the room was sticky, and she knew immediately that she had found a large source of the house's torment, if not the only source.

She clutched at the bag in her hand. It would take some set up to try to reach out to the spirit that resided within these walls, but the first part was simple. The first thing to do was to establish a contact, some form of connection. Putting a hand out, she fearlessly set her jaw, planted her feet firmly on the ground, and lifted her chin to greet the master of the house.

"Please... I am here to help. Please speak to me, if you are here with me. Reveal yourself to me, if you will... I only wish to get to know you." There was no response from the empty room, her only companions the dusty furniture and the smell of mildew and rot. As she gazed about the room she was struck by just how old an untouched the place was, like looking at a photograph. Undisturbed by the passage of time save for the settling of dust and the onset of the bitter cold. She felt the presence she had noticed curiously begin to dissipate, replaced by naught but her own musings. _Had it ever been there?_

With a sigh, certain she had misread the innocent room, she turned towards the door again, ready to move on to the next.  
She came face to face with a man, and almost screamed as she stumbled back away from him, dropping her back in the process. He was translucent, a pale colour like the shade of a new dawn. Well dressed, but wispy, as though he were made of smoke. Black poured from a crack in his face, and he regarded her with a somber gaze.

"Leave this place." The words came forth as a whisper, a handsome and cultured voice that glided across her mind and rattled her to her core. Her hand clasped to her mouth, she backed away from him into the room, hitting her legs against a chair leg behind her. He stayed motionless, but his eyes watched her every movement with an intensity that made her blush.  
After a moment she regained her composure, bracing herself against the chair, her hands clutching at the back of it firmly.

"Are you Sir Thomas Sharpe? My name is Jessica, I have come to help you. Please tell me your troubles. What do you want?" Her voice shook even as she spoke. She had communed with spirits before, troubled souls barred from the afterlife, but always through ritual and seance, never having one come to her in a such a present, physical sense as this.

His eyes never left hers, and the contact was almost electrifying. When he spoke again, she almost felt like screaming anew. It was hard to believe he was actually there.  
 _"Leave this place."_ He repeated himself, "There is only death here. You're _not-_ " He was cut off by a scream. It was a male scream.

_Tom!_

He turned as if startled by the sound before he dissipated entirely before her eyes. Without wasting a moment, she rushed out of the room, frantic to find the source of the screams. They were coming from upstairs. With her heart in her throat she ran down the hall, passing various rooms and doors before she finally reached the stairs. She took two steps at a time, hurrying to gather up her skirts in her hands so as not to trip. Her feet raced, the wooden steps groaning and creaking in protest at her passage.

When she reached the top, there was Tom. He was white as a sheet, held by the shoulders mid air by a ghastly creature. She was skeletal, though well dressed in a flowing gown that disappeared towards the bottom. Grotesque and beautiful all at once. Everything about her was jet black, black like ink, as though she had been stained. And the presence that she felt from this spirit was the deepest, most troubled and agonized thing she had ever felt.

_"TOM!"_ She screamed, clutching at her heart as she tried to lunge forwards, but the spirit gripping him looked up at her outburst and dropped him. The man hit the ground with a sickening thud, a groan of pain leaving his lips as he struggled to an upright position, gasping for breath.

The ghostly man from before suddenly loomed above her, as though he had come from behind, and she felt a tension fill the room, almost as though there were an invisible war taking place between the two of them.  
 _"Lucille! STOP!"_

The whispering voice sent chills down her spine, before the dark lady suddenly rushed at her, lunging forwards towards her and she felt a sudden chill, an unbearable cold grip her, overtaking her, overriding her as the woman collided with her body. There was a sickening moment of resistance, as she fought off the presence, the all encompassing consciousness of the intruding woman, but it managed to override her in the end. She was looking out through eyes she could not move, watched as her own gaze flitted about the room.

Then, the presence spoke. "Thomas, darling! We can _live_ again, like _this!_  So much better with physical shapes... don't you think?" Anguish and desire rushed through her as she saw her fiance stumble to his feet. He looked the same, but his eyes were changed. There was something, not himself, in those eyes. She began to feel hunger, lust, and anticipation. _Yes. This_ is what it was to feel _alive_ again... _after all this time!_

The man did not seem to share her elation. As Tom rose to his feet, his eyes bored into hers hard, in a way that her Tom had never looked at her before, not even at his sternest.   
"You think this is a _game_ , Lucille?" He snarled, and at once he was upon her, grabbing her roughly by the arm. She frowned in dismay and confusion.   
"Thomas, why are you so angry? I've only done it for you. I've only done all of it for you. We've been languishing here _in between_ for so long... it's so good to see you again...."

The hurt in her voice was a confusion to her. She couldn't understand who this Lucille was, but whoever she was, her desires and her past and her memories were beginning to cloud out her own. She wanted her wonderful Thomas back, to continue on as before, that was all. Except, that wasn't quite right was it?

Tom snarled and marched her down the hallway, roughly tearing open the nearest door to fling her into a bedroom. She didn't even notice the flood of dust as she stumbled into a bed, the grey matter filling the air around the pair of them.

"Too long, I have gone along with your schemes. I have watched _innocent people suffer,_ and taken part in their torment. I never did in life, but now I have the chance, I will _finally_ put you in your place. I will _not_ let you have these two." He pushed her roughly onto the bed, and she looked up at him with wide eyes, her body shaking with trepidation. "I will not let you _hurt_ them like all the others."

Tom would never behave like this, savagely grasping her wrists and holding her down to the bed, his hips pinning her beneath him. They had never been so close, Tom was a _gentleman_ and she was a _lady_ , they weren't married yet, they had never - Ooohhh but how she _missed_ the feel of Thomas's hand upon her flesh, how she longed to feel it again. She was torn between two minds as she felt her body being flipped over his lap, and her skirts drawn up.

She could hear the sound of fabric tearing as her undergarments were ripped away, and it frightened her. Her Thomas, he had never been so rough before. No, she was always the one who cornered him, thrust him up against the wall. This new Thomas excited her, as much as he scared her. More fabric was being torn off of her dress, ripped lace and shredded cotton falling to the floor before she felt a hard SLAP on her exposed bottom.  
She screamed, a strangled cry of pain and confusion. Her mind, her spirit was in turmoil, but as his hand came down hard on her backside, again, and yet again, she found herself letting go of the struggle between consciousnesses. Was she Jessica, or was she Lucille? _Oh, did it matter?_

SLAP. She wailed, letting the physical sensation sweep away all thought and emotion, let herself be consumed by the pain. Her bottom wiggled in the air as he continued, SLAP. And again. SLAP.  
She was panting now, groaning and squirming in his lap. She could feel his hardness underneath her, and she felt herself growing wet with desire as well.

When he was satisfied that her bottom was bright red enough for his liking, he roughly grabbed her by the hair and jerked her up. He controlled her, pulled her, and forced her down on her knees between his legs, and she could only helplessly scramble to go where he directed.  
"You liked that, Lucille?" His eyes still burned hot with anger as he gazed down at her, his fingers tightening their grip in her hair and making her gasp aloud again. " _Answer me._ " His voice was a snarl and she gulped, fear gripping her as she hurried to articulate.

"I.. please.. Thomas, I'll do whatever you want... _don't be angry with me._.." He was unbuckling himself hurriedly, loosing the erect cock from their painful restrictions, right before her wide eyes. She had never seen one before... She licked her lips in growing anticipation. Oh how she had _missed_ it. "Angry? I'm _furious_. You will do _whatever I want._ I have been _passive_ with you for far too long. Are you truly sorry? Are you ready to atone for our sins?"

She nodded quickly, feeling hot shame redden her face. She was guilty, so _guilty_.... She wanted to please him. All she had ever done had been for him...  
"You can start with this." His harsh tone made her whimper as he roughly pulled her forward to shove his hard length between her lips. She opened her mouth for him eagerly, ready to take all that he had to offer. He was not gentle. She felt her body protest, her stomach contract at the feel of it shoved all the way down her throat. She couldn't breath! In a flurry of desperate movement she tried to pull away, but his hands were now on either side of her head, holding her firmly, gagging her quite completely on his cock.

Her vision began to darken as she felt the lack of oxygen, felt her body vehemently trying to pull away from the gag, but just as she was about to be swallowed up by the darkness, he pulled her off of it. She took in a deep breath, coughing and sputtering as she looked up at him, new fear in her eyes. His cold eyes did not betray any softness, any sympathy.   
"Get to it, then, _harlot._ Show me how badly you want to _appease_ me."

She immediately moved forward to take him once again into her mouth, wrapping her lips around the head and letting her tongue explore. It was all at once an experience for the first time, and also familiar and comforting as the two minds within her battled for recognition.   
This... _this is Toms...._

Yes.. _. Finally..._ Thomas, you're _back..._

She bobbed her head up and down on the length of it, letting the feel of it down her throat in more gradual strokes as she went. It tasted like a flood of him, and she closed her eyes and relished in it. Felt the hardness on her tongue as she sucked, and basked in the sound of his gasps and moans. He was breathless, his hands no longer punishingly gripping her head, simply lightly stroking her hair.

"Yes, that's it... _good girl_.. I'm going to cum... shoot it _straight down your throat_ do you hear me?" His hand laced through her hair again, gripping but not controlling. He let her do the work, and she did so with relish, desperate to feel him shudder and buck his hips up and into her mouth. Her hands came up to grip his knees and he came with a shout. As his cum shot into her mouth she rushed to swallow along his length, but it did not stop. She found herself sputtering and coughing as his cock left her throat, cum dripping across her lips and chin to land on his legs.

The painful grip returned with a vengeance, and he eyed her angrily, panting and out of breath though he was. " _Lick that up,_ slut." The words were spat in her direction as he held her head near to his crotch. "This isn't for your _enjoyment_ , this is _work_. _Finish it."_  
She gulped and caught her breath before she obediently closed her eyes and let her tongue dart out to lick up the salty flavor staining his suit pants. Her own arousal had mounted to an unbearable point now, and she squirmed where she knelt, desperate to feel some form of pressure on her aching pussy.

Tom stood, gripping her by the arm and spinning her around to press her front up against the wall. His hand expertly found her most sensitive spots, fingers exploring her folds. It was not a gentle touch, it was demanding and claiming. His hot breath was felt on her neck, her whole body quivering in anticipation as he whispered words into her ear.   
"Don't you dare cum without begging me, do you hear me? I don't know if I'm going to let you yet. I don't know if I have made myself _clear_ enough yet. Do you think I have?"

She groaned as she felt his fingers slide inside of her, agonizingly slowly. She was already dripping, and she obediently spread her legs to accommodate his touch.   
"Yes... Thomas, _yes_... oh god, Thomas, _please_ just make me cum. I want to _feel_ you."  
His voice softened at that, finally a break in the anger that had consumed him, and he let his thumb circle her clit, eliciting from her a sharp gasp of pleasure.  
"I know.... Lucille, _I know_... but this is really the end. We have to _let g_ _o_ after this. When you cum, you will _leave_ this woman's body... leave this place _entirely_. Do you understand me?" His voice was no less firm and commanding, and she whimpered and nodded again, bracing herself against the wall.

His fingers moved deep inside of her, and she wailed and moaned, rocking her hips back to meet them, drive them further inside of her. It was agonizing torment as she felt him press against her from behind, his strong shoulders pinning her. His other hand came up around her neck to hold her in place, and once again she could feel her breath restricted. She gasped and moaned, tried to turn to face him, but he held her fast.  
"No, my darling. You will cum on _my_ terms this time, you will _relinquish_ control." She moaned and spread her legs wider, her breath cut short, gasps for air as his fingers continued to pulse in and out of her. She could feel her wetness dripping down her thighs as she gave in to the feelings.  
"Please Thomas! I'm going.. I'm going to cum!" She breathed aloud, but howled in frustration as he deliberately slowed his rhythm in response.   
_"Beg me for it."_ At his words she keened and wailed, tears pooling in her eyes as she turned her face to gaze at her tormentor. _"Pleaseee..._ Please let me cum... Thomas I beg of you, let me cum...I'm sorry... I'm sorry _please._... just let me cum..." His eyes bored into her as though testing the very depths of her soul for authenticity.   
"Beg _harder_." He insisted, but his pace quickened and his thrusts turned in deeper. His fingers curled on that wonderful sweet spot ever so deep inside of her, while his thumb resumed its torment of her clit.

"PLEASE LET ME CUM ILL DO ANYTHING I NEED TO CUM PLEEASSEEEEE..."  
"Then cum."

She screamed, a wail of pure pleasure that carried through the entire dilapidated mansion, echoing through its unhallowed walls and down the dismal hallways. Her body writhed beneath him, her pussy clenched around four knuckles as he continued to pound into her, carrying her through the experience. When she came down he gently turned her around to face her, and as his lips crashed down on hers she felt herself almost melting into his arms as she returned the kiss. Tears began to pour down her cheeks as he broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes.

"I..I only ever did any of it for you... I did it all for _us_..." His eyes were also heavy with unshed tears as he caressed her cheek. _"I know."_  
As they stood there gazing at each other she felt that secondary mind moving, fading, almost as though it was lifting out of her. Lucille was withdrawing and soon she felt her mind come to herself again, and she was Jessica.

They stood there for a moment, panting, staring at each other, and the atmosphere in the room was very suddenly quite different. She no longer felt a presence about the house... there was no lingering feeling of a being inhabiting the mansion, permeating through its floors and its beams. It felt very much old, and very much empty.

But she and her fiance were staring at each other in a half naked post orgasmic glow.  
Her face flushed bright red and she looked away immediately. Tom had a very sheepish look on his face, matching the bright red of hers shade for shade.   
He coughed and made a move to take of his jacket, hurriedly placing it around her shoulders before he turned aside to tuck his manhood away.

"Ah... I do believe we brought a change of clothes..."

She interrupted him with an arm on his shoulder, spinning him around to face her, before she leaned forward to capture his lips with her own.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's an epilogue! I think this wraps the events up fairly nicely. Thanks for reading this little bit of nonsense! :)

The couple walked close, hand in hand, down the dingy London streets. Those who passed them noticed not their well dressed style and fine looking clothes, nor the way in which they seemed to be in a hurry as they passed. No, what was most commonly noted, not without a hint of judgement and the occasional roll of the eyes, was the closeness that the couple shared. As though they could not keep their hands from each other, clinging to each other quite closely, and sharing kisses and caresses that always make the casual onlooker more than a little uncomfortable.

The events at Crimson Peak had awoken a sort of passion within the two of them that they simply could not hold in. As they had packed up their things after changing clothes, Jessica's eyes had followed Tom's form in an animalistic way that she had simply never experienced. He was not immune to the lingering intensity and undisguised desire in her eyes, though he had done his best to put his own lust aside.

He had passed her once, and unable to restrain herself it was she who had grasped his arm and pulled him close again for another kiss - one of many passionate embraces the couple had shared since rediscovering themselves, though he had always been careful enough to stop things before they got out of hand.

_"I want you."_ She had whispered, her voice trembling with confusion and unmasked need. She had never felt this way before, her whole body on fire, aching to her core, knowing only one thing could quell the ache. He, however, was much more experienced and adept at putting aside such carnal cravings. _"I know._ But I won't have you here, like this. We must do this properly."

They had been due to be married in the New Year, shortly after Christmas. It had always been her mothers favorite wish, to see her daughter married in the snow, but as they gazed at each other now they knew it was no longer an option. Tom telegraphed her father with an urgent missive the minute they arrived at the post office, not far from the sight of Allerdale Hall itself.

_My Dear Sir,_   
_I regret to inform you that something of a rather urgent nature has some up, and for such reasons I will be unable to wed your daughter in January as has been planned. Please do not be alarmed. We wish to hasten the matter of our marriage, and propose to move the date to early next week, at your convenience of course. There is no need for a large todo or fanfare as was previously discussed. We seek only a very small, and intimate affair so as to be wed as soon as possible. I hope and pray dearly for your blessing in this regard._

_Your faithful servant,_   
_Tom Hiddleston_

Now, as the two moved through the busy streets as though in a world of their own, they reflected on how very different their marriage was than they had ever imagined. As they found themselves scurrying up the steps leading to their now shared home, modest in size but comfortable and serviceable, Tom could scarcely keep his hands off of his bride, breathlessly pressing her against the door which had only just shut behind them.

"My dear, what will the servants say!" She gasped as his lips found the tender flesh of her neck, though she made no effort to halt his advances, even as his hand began to hike up her skirt.   
"Let them say what they will." His voice half growled in her ear, and she giggled some at the feel of his hands roaming her form and caressing her curves, setting her skin on fire with desire.

Her leg came up to hook around his hips, her back arching against the door frame as his lips began to explore her body hungrily, her moans and whimpers only encouraging him onward. She gasped and trembled there beneath him, relishing his touch and moving obediently with his desires.

When their lovemaking was done, their sweat mingling and their voices hoarse from screaming, they sat together in the hallway. It was quite evident that the servants had heard them and chosen to stay clear, but the gossip did not bother the two. As she panted and caught her breath she rested her head on his shoulder, and he tenderly turned to plant a kiss on her hair.

"The Sharpes were a tragic pair." She remarked between gasps of breath, her voice barely above a shaken whisper. They hadn't discussed their unearthly encounter much since it had happened, but now as she sat next to him, feeling the warmth from his body engulfing hers, she could not keep the experience from her lips any longer. He shifted slightly, nodding his head, not attempting to avoid the topic as they so often had.

"Damaged... broken. Twisted. They did such terrible things." His comment was soft and slowly articulated, as though he were mulling the thought over in his own mind. The siblings had left a lasting imprint upon them. Jessica often still found herself recalling memories that were not her own, experiences that belonged to the life of another. At first it had unsettled her, but now it had been months since the encounter, she found she carried Lucille's memories like a treasure.

"Yes... It was no wonder they lingered... they needed closure." She turned her face towards him, smiling up at him with open affection. "They aren't gone, not _completely_... they left something behind, in us."

"Yes.." he agreed, leaning down to kiss her lips, forcefully and lustfully, claiming them and tasting them with his own. When he broke the kiss finally, she had stars in her eyes. "...They left us their _passion._ "


End file.
